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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066104">Warmth in Solid Gray</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropdots/pseuds/dropdots'>dropdots</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst...?, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropdots/pseuds/dropdots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to spend this Christmas together?” Dream’s words stumbled out his mouth, landing heavily on George's mind. George’s mouth snapped shut, opening again after a moment, before shutting again. Abruptly, George figured he looked like a fish out of water.</p><p>“W-what, you mean like on Minecraft?” George managed to stutter.</p><p>“No,” Dream laughed. “I mean, like, in person.”<br/>--<br/>On a late night stream session, George admits he's spending Christmas alone. One phone call later and "spending Christmas alone" turns to "spending Christmas alone with Dream".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is purely for entertainment purposes :) I by no means mean to make anyone uncomfortable, especially George and Dream. Hopefully you guys enjoy !!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Trees rushed by the outskirts of George’s vision, blurring together into swaths of brown. Sweat pooled in the palms of his hands. He ran, weaving his way through the forest, peeking quickly over his shoulder every few seconds. The quick crunch of dirt under feet were clear indications they were gaining. George took a sharp left, slamming the doors open into an empty building, quickly climbing the stairs up to the second story.</p><p>“Where are you going, George,” a playful voice echoed in his ears. “Don’t you wanna play with us?”</p><p>George stifled a scream. He peered out of a window, hands shaking, sweat dripping down his back. The doors to the building slammed open a second time.</p><p>“Oh, George,” another voice sang out to him, one that ran chills down George's spine. He took another glance out the window. There was a river directly below him. He would have to break the glass to jump out which would definitely notify his pursuers of his location, but his gut told him that didn’t matter. They already knew where he was.</p><p>George crouched below the window, listening. He heard nothing but the sound of his beating heart - quick and heavy - and the buzzing of rushing blood. The form of a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Fuck. George stood up, bashed out the window with his fist, and launched himself through.</p><p>“Holy crap, the man is insane! He just jumped out a window!” George heard the figure on the stairs yell.</p><p>George plummeted towards the water, screaming as he fell. His pursuers laughed, both gathering at the open window. George sunk to the bottom and swam on the river floor, moving downstream. He took a glance over his shoulder. Swarms of bubbles and agitated water filled his vision. One of his pursuers jumped in after him. George gasped and swam back up towards the surface, rushing to the other side of the river. He pushed himself out, just not fast enough. Something hit his back. He lurched forward. The crunch of sand signified the person chasing him got out as well. Another harsh hit.</p><p>“No!” George screamed. He pulled out a watery green orb and tossed it as far as he could, continuing to run. A split second later George appeared at the other end of the forest.</p><p>“Don’t think you can get away.” George heard a slight pop to his left. Purple sparks swirled through the air.</p><p>“Yeah! Get his ass, Dream!”</p><p>George turned and sprinted in the other direction.</p><p>“Dream, go away!” Another hit propelled George forward. He pressed his lips together, eyebrows furrowed. One more hit and he was dead, and Dream knew it as well. A wheezing laugh floated through George's headphones.</p><p>“You’re mine!”</p><p>The final blow. George's vision flashed red. All of his belongings spilled to the floor. The words “You died!” taunted him, and the inevitability of those words never failed to prickle his annoyance. George groaned and leaned back in his chair. His head lolled to the side, mouse hovering over the respawn button. Laughter reverberated through George’s headphones, mixing with playful taunts from Dream and Quackity. He clicked respawn, appearing back in the middle of his house.</p><p>“Grab my stuff, please. I don't want it to despawn,” George grumbled into his mic. Dream released another wheezy laugh.</p><p>“I placed down a chest where you died. All of your stuff is in it.”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>“Awe, George. Are you upset?” Quackity’s impish voice cackled. “Do you and Dream need some couple’s therapy?”</p><p>“No, Quackity,” George snapped. “What I need is for Dream to stop killing me. He thinks it’s so funny, but it’s not - what are you laughing at?!”</p><p>“I'm sorry,” Dream said through a breathy laugh, “But it's kind of funny.”</p><p>“No, it’s not! You think making me mad is funny.”</p><p>“Oh sure. You’re cute when you’re mad,” Dream’s voice purred in his ear. George scoffed, shifting in his chair.</p><p>“Alright well, George, if you don’t come soon I'm going to take your stack of potatoes,” Quackity called.</p><p>“No, don’t!” George began his trek back to the forest.</p><p>George, Dream, and Quackity played on Dream’s server for another hour. Quackity was streaming, and George didn’t want to be the first to leave. He felt as if that always brought the mood down, and he didn’t want another thing for people to taunt him over. A lull in their conversation made him realize how late it was. 4:30 AM. George groaned inwardly, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing deeply.</p><p>“So,” he heard Quackity say, “You boys have any plans for the holidays?”</p><p>Dream hummed. “Not really. My family is going on a trip this Christmas, and they asked me if I wanted to go, but I decided to stay behind.”</p><p>“Ahh,” Quackity smiled. “Why are you staying behind for? Got a special girl you wanted to spend the holiday with?”</p><p>“Yeah, Dream,” George chimed in, wanting to hear Dream wiggle his way out of this. “Got something to tell us?” Dream laughed.</p><p>“No, no. The only girl in my life right now is Patches.”</p><p>George leaned back in his seat, vaguely disappointed - he wanted to hear Dream struggle more - yet small tickles of relief ran through his body. He didn’t know where the relief came from or why he was feeling it. Why would it matter if Dream did have someone? It would be good for him, in fact.</p><p>Quackity chuckled. “Well, what are you going to do instead if you’re not on vacation with your family?”</p><p>Dream thought for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Chill. Sleep probably.”</p><p>“Mmm. And what about you Mr. GeorgeNotFound?”</p><p>George swiveled his chair back and forth, tamping down his tangible annoyance at the question.</p><p>“Probably nothing, honestly,” George said finally. “I dunno.”</p><p>“Damn, you white boys are actually really boring,” Quackity laughed. “Let me tell you how we celebrate in my family.”</p><p>George listened to Quackity’s story, running along with the bits Quackity worked up. They ran around the server for a few moments longer before the eventual deep sigh left Dream’s mouth.</p><p>“Alright,” Dream laughed. “This has been super fun, but I’m gonna head out.”</p><p>George listened to the warbled screams Quackity threw at Dream.</p><p>“Dream, no! Please, don’t go! I love you, mi amor.” Quackity’s naked avatar ran over a hill and began hitting Dream’s character. Dream moved, smacking Quackity once. Fake sobs rang through George's headset, followed by a short, deep chuckle that caused a flutter in his heart. George adjusted his headset.</p><p>“I'm probably gonna get off as well,” George murmured. “Kinda tired.”</p><p>“You’re always tired, George,” Quackity’s voice nagged at him. “You can sleep through fucking anything.”</p><p>“Yeah, George. Why are you always so tired? What are you doing up so late at night?” Dream’s green avatar jumped in front of him, before crouching and waving his arm. George rolled his eyes and pushed out a laugh.</p><p>“Whatever. I literally have the exact same sleep schedule as you morons,” he said. George’s sleep schedule was, in fact, not pristine, however, it’s not like he had anything specific to look forward to or a job to worry about. He created his work schedule; his office was five feet from his bed. And while there were some obvious benefits to that, eventually each day just ends up blending together. The occasional trip outside would reinvigorate his senses, his motivation, but those days were always few and far between. If anything, it was the sleep deprivation that added the spice to his life.</p><p>George sighed and logged out of the server. He switched onto his second monitor, pulling up Discord and opening the voice chat channel he was in. His mouse hovered over the disconnect button.</p><p>“It’s been fun!” Dream called. George watched Dream’s profile light up, a green ring surrounding it. The faint creaking of a chair caused the ring to shudder. “Bye guys!” Dream disconnected. George tried desperately to ignore that sinking feeling he felt pooling at the bottom of his stomach.</p><p>“Bye Quackity,” George sighed.</p><p>“Bye George! Thanks for joining me tonight.” George smiled and disconnected from the voice chat. He took a deep breath, stretching both arms over his head and leaned back in his chair. Opening his eyes took more work than he expected.</p><p>George pulled off his headphones, leaning over to turn off his monitors. He hesitated, looking at the screen of his second one. Dream was still online, apparently. A few seconds passed before George clicked off the power button. Knowing Dream’s sleep schedule, the man was most definitely exhausted. He can just text Dream later if he really wanted to talk to him. He stood up, stretching one more time, and slid into bed.</p><p>Rolling onto his side, George faced his bedroom window. The blinds didn’t quite cover the entire square, leaving a small sliver of exposed glass and scenery to look out into. Small orange and yellow bulbs of light twinkled against the dark background. Streaks of white and red would swipe across the window, followed by the rushing of tires on wet pavement as an occasional car drove by. Heavy clouds blanketed the night sky, obscuring the moon from vision. A slight breeze wove through the trees, swirling stray leaves into the air.</p><p>George shivered, pulling his knees closer to his chest, wrapping the dark blue comforter tighter around his body. George naturally ran cold. Those of his friends who happened to grab his hands always sprang back in surprise. Your hands are so cold! Are you okay? He never really paid attention to how he felt. The weather wasn’t something that honestly bothered him either. He wore sweatshirts during the blistering heat and short sleeves out in the snow. Pants were his go-to no matter the circumstances, although he did have to admit that he was partial to rainy days. Yet, this kind of cold he felt, it was different. It seeped into his bones, stabbing at his stomach, his heart. This cold was constant, felt year round, but hit especially hard during the winter.</p><p>This wasn’t something he mentioned very often, and if anyone brought it up he would deny it to avoid conflict, but George hated Christmas. The holiday festivities, gathering with obnoxious family members, passing couples on the sidewalk as they snuggled together against the cold. It was painful. Annoying.</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, George. Where’s your girlfriend? A fine young man like you should have a girlfriend, no?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What do you do with all that free time of yours if you’re not out on the hunt, aye?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well surely you can fit a girlfriend into your schedule?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not interested? Psh, you just haven’t found the right girl yet.”</em>
</p><p>Painful misunderstanding. George glared out the window. He really wasn’t interested in girls. He wasn’t gay, he figured, just disinterested. Sure, women are pretty - he knew that - but there wasn’t anything particularly enticing about women. A friend would point out a girl standing with a few of her friends, “Man, she’s hot”, and George would look, agree, and that’s where it ended. But it’s not like George found men to be any different; there wasn’t anything super special about them either. The same disinterest floated through George's life, a constant gray filter between himself and the vibrancy everyone tells him he’s missing out on.</p><p>The thing was, George never felt like he was missing out on anything. He didn’t quite understand why dating was such an important thing and why everyone made such a big fuss about it. What was so great about it? You put yourself out there, talk to someone for months, tell them about all your fears, your secrets, your aspirations in life, only to date for a couple of months then break up and act like nothing happened. Or even worse, years before the reality that this is not the person you want to spend the rest of your life with hits you like a train. Either way you’re left feeling empty and carved out. Either way it ends up being a waste of time. That wasn’t something George felt like he should make a big deal about, nor was it something he wanted to put himself through.</p><p>Plus, he had friends - people he held close to his heart. Having a good core group of friends seemed more important than having one singular significant other. And wasn’t a best friend technically like having a significant other? They’re a person you admire, cherish, and love just slightly above the rest. They’re someone you would quite literally do anything for. Wasn’t that the same? George had a best friend. The vibrancy, the color, the heightened emotions and experiences George felt when talking to Dream, that felt like something. So why would he go through all the trouble of dating someone when he had his best friend?</p><p>George clenched his teeth together and flipped onto his other side, now facing his bedroom door. A soft buzz shook the nightstand beside him. White light glowed from his phone, illuminating the area around him. George reached out with his hand and felt around his nightstand.</p><p>SNAPCHAT<br/>from drem</p><p>Large white numbers at the top of his screen told George it was 5 AM. He pushed his head deeper into his pillow. “And they wonder why I sleep through everything,” he grumbled to himself. George shut off his phone and moved to set it back on the nightstand. He'll respond in the morning. Right as he placed his phone down, it buzzed again. George groaned, rubbing a hand over his face before picking his phone back up. He sighed, defeated. What’s ten more minutes going to do anyway? He’s already been awake for this long. George slid his finger over the Snapchat notification, his conversation with Dream popping open.</p><p>drem<br/>| hey<br/>| u awake</p><p>George rolled his eyes</p><p>goeg<br/>| hey yourself<br/>| i’m awake now</p><p>He watched as Dream’s little cartoon figure popped up. Tiny Dream brought his hand up to his chin, looking quizzically upward at the conversation, before placing his hand back down. Dream’s messages popped up in blue.</p><p>drem<br/>| srry, we can talk later if u want</p><p>goeg<br/>| no it’s fine</p><p>drem<br/>| if u say so lol<br/>| do u rlly have nothing to do for christmas?</p><p>George squinted at his screen.</p><p>goeg<br/>| yeah.... why?</p><p>Tiny Dream popped up again, pondering for a moment, before stopping. No message popped up. Instead, George's phone started buzzing. At the top of his screen a small drop down notification appeared. Dream was calling him. George's stomach dropped. Why was Dream calling him? Weren’t they just texting each other? George swallowed harshly before pressing accept. He brought the phone to his ear.</p><p>“Hello?” George asked.</p><p>“Hey!” Dream’s voice rang through George's ear. “Thought this would be easier than texting.”</p><p>“Alright,” George let out a small, shaky laugh. “What did you want?” George prayed Dream didn’t hear the tremble in his voice.</p><p>“Well...” Dream’s voice dropped off into a staticy silence. George sat listening to the silence for a moment.</p><p>“Dream?”</p><p>“Sorry, yeah. I’m here,” Dream laughed. “I don't know why, I'm kind of nervous about asking this.” George's heart fluttered in his chest.</p><p>“Asking what, Dream?” George asked, shakily. “What’s the matter? Are you dying or something?”</p><p>“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just -,“ Dream’s voice cut off. The dial tone beeped in his ear. George frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear. He swiped up to his home page, fingers searching for the green phone app, pressing angrily on Dream’s name. He picked up.</p><p>“Dream! Did you hang up on purpose?” Dream’s wheezing laughter echoed in the background.</p><p>“I just had to mess with you,” Dream said between laughs. “You’re so easy to annoy.”</p><p>“God, you’re impossible!” George shook his head. “What did you want? Ask quickly, I want to go to sleep.”</p><p>“We can talk later if you want. I’ll let you sleep.”</p><p>“No, you idiot. I’m awake now, just tell me.”</p><p>“God, you’re so needy,” Dream jokingly whined. George's heart skipped a few beats. Heat crept up his neck, seeping into his cheeks.</p><p>“I’m not needy, Dream. Stop being annoying and just ask your question.”</p><p>The call went silent for a moment. Dream breathed in.</p><p>“Well, you said you didn’t have any plans for Christmas, right?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” George prompted.</p><p>“Well, I don't have any plans either, you know. So I was wondering... Like I thought - I was- uh.”</p><p>George listened to Dream trip over his words. Confusion and a feeling similar to anxiety tackled George’s heart. Dream laughed.</p><p>“Man, what the hell, I don’t know why I’m so-” Dream’s voice fell away. A distant, muffled groan came from George’s phone.</p><p>“Dream, are you alri-”</p><p>“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to spend this Christmas together?” Dream’s words stumbled out his mouth, landing heavily on George's mind. George’s mouth snapped shut, opening again after a moment, before shutting again. Abruptly, George figured he looked like a dying fish out of water.</p><p>“W-what, you mean like on Minecraft?” George managed to stutter.</p><p>“No,” Dream laughed. “I mean, like, in person.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George has an unfortunate dream that brings up many unwanted feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hopefully this wasn't too long of a wait. Kind of an action-packed chapter. Enjoy !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George’s eyes widened, mouth falling open. He shifted in his bed, comforter falling around his waist as he propped himself into a seated position.</p><p>“Are you being serious right now?” George scrambled to collect his thoughts.</p><p>“Yeah, I'm being serious.” More silence rushed between them. “It's okay if you don’t want to,” Dream reassured.</p><p>“No wait! I do, but-” George's word crashed into his teeth, piling in his mouth. He found all of the things he wished to have told Dream wanting to spill out at this very moment. George's heart hammered in his chest.</p><p>“But...?”</p><p>“I-I don’t know!” George scrubbed a hand through his disheveled hair. His thoughts were racing, crashing into each other, ramming against the sides of his skull. “This is just so sudden, and I thought we wanted to meet up with Sapnap, and if we do meet up I’ll know what you look like, and fans would definitely speculate, and I thought-“</p><p>“George, George,” Dream laughed, “Calm down. I know we wanted to meet up with Sapnap. I asked him earlier today if he wanted to come down, and, well, obviously he did, but he said he had plans for Christmas already. He mentioned something about meeting up with another friend of his or something, I dunno. But he was the one that brought up inviting you out here.” George sat there mulling over Dream’s words with fierce intensity. “And who knows,” Dream continued, “If you stay long enough maybe he could come down for New Year’s Eve.”</p><p>George stayed quiet. Obviously he wanted to meet up with Dream. His only hesitation stemmed from his desire. The want to meet Dream, to see him in person, to touch him - it was overpowering, a silly daydream at best. All of those moments where Dream joked about flying George and Sapnap out to Florida, those were just jokes. Meeting Dream in real life was something meant for sleepless nights where the cold was endless and soul-crushing. Yet, the comfort, the warmth that being around Dream would give him, it was something George desperately desired. The possibility of his desires coming to fruition made his head swim. It scared him.</p><p>“And again, you can say no,” Dream’s voice softly reminded him. George swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry.</p><p>“Okay,” George replied, voice barely above a whisper. Dream was silent for a moment.</p><p>“‘Okay’ as in you want to come to Florida? Or ‘okay’ as in you’re staying in England?”</p><p>“‘Okay’ as in yes, Dream, obviously I want to come to Florida.”</p><p>“Well,” Dream scoffed, “If it was so obvious I wouldn’t have to ask now would I?” George heard the smirk forming on Dream’s lips.</p><p>“Okay, smartass. Wipe that smirk off your face.” George rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Woah! How’d you know I was smiling? Are you here already?” Dream’s voice sounded faint as he pulled the phone away from his ear. “George? George, where are you? Let me see your beautiful face in person!”</p><p>A smile crept onto George's face.</p><p>“God, you are such an idiot,” George murmured into his phone.</p><p>“Oh, come on. I know I got you to smile,” Dream said playfully. </p><p>“Definitely not.”</p><p>Dream chuckled. “You’re such a bad liar.”</p><p>“Am not.”</p><p>“You so are. I knew you were the minute you tried to deny you were in love with me. All those moments on stream just dodging those questions, yet you just couldn’t hide your love for me!  I mean seriously, I can’t blame you. How can anyone not be in love with me?”</p><p>George scoffed loudly, sliding down onto his back.</p><p>“Okay, Dream. Keep inflating that ego of yours. I'd ask if you’d need any more hot air, but it looks like that head of yours has it covered.”</p><p>“Wow! Alright, so this is how you treat the guy you’ll be living with for two weeks? Okay, I see how it is.”</p><p>George snapped back into his senses.</p><p>“Wait, two weeks?”</p><p>“We’ll talk about this in the morning! Good night, George!” The dial tone rang in his ear before George could form a sentence. </p><p>Two weeks? With Dream? Alone? The reality of his situation slammed into him all at once. Slowly, George placed his phone back on his night stand. Any traces of sleep left when Dream hung up. He felt his heart rate pick up. The ceiling was suddenly too close, his room felt incredibly tiny. George sat up, his body burning underneath his comforter. He slid to the other side of his bed, ripping the blankets off of him. He leaned over to his window and fumbled with the blind string, struggling to pull them up. The window fogged from the heat rolling off his body. He desperately needed fresh air. </p><p>George reached up, feeling along the top ledge of the window for the latches. He popped them open one at a time, causing the window to jump up. Cold air rushed into the room. George fell back on to his bed, breathing deeply. The cool air cascaded over his body, caressing his warm cheeks, calming him down. There was a heavy weight on his bones which sunk him deeper into his mattress. George just wanted to sleep, maybe shut his racing mind up for a few hours and deal with the whole Florida fiasco tomorrow, but no matter how hard he tried to shut his mind off, stinging quips and ugly questions shattered the darkness.</p><p>
  <em> Why did you agree to that? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> God, you’re so stupid. This isn’t going to work out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You don’t know what Dream even looks like. How are you going to get picked up? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream is basically a stranger. If he can’t trust you with his looks, how can you trust him with your well-being? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re going to get stuck at the airport with nowhere to go and no way back home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This is just a huge prank. Dream doesn’t actually want to spend two weeks with you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There’s no point in going. Dream will realize what a useless, pathetic person you are and ditch you on the side of the road. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’ll hate you if you go.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Don’t go. </em>
</p><p>George felt himself falling into a restless kind of sleep - the kind of sleep where he would wake up the next day feeling even more exhausted and find every little thing extremely annoying and bothersome.</p><p>Usually he doesn’t dream. Science reports state that everyone has dreams since everyone goes through REM during the night, but George didn’t consider that dreaming. To have dreams, George felt like you had to remember what you dreamt about, and he never remembered what he dreamt about. Sleep was just a dark, solid wall; a jump from one period of time to the next. Nothing to really write home about.</p><p>It was surprising when George opened his eyes and found himself standing in the middle of a barren room. He could see the walls of the room from where he was standing, a continuous gray color that extended in every direction, fading into darkness. Looking up, George saw the faint outlines of roof tiles, or at least he thought he did. No light fixtures shone from the ceiling. He looked down at his feet. The ground was the same color as the walls and looked to be made from concrete. A soft ring of light surrounded his feet, extending out about three feet in every direction. It seemed to be the only light source around. George took a step to the left, the light followed. A step to the right, the same soft glow illuminated the ground around him.</p><p>Small prickles of fear crept through his body. It appeared like he was alone in this room, if he could even call it a room. There seemed to be no corners where two walls met, no visible doorways; the room was less “room” and more “hallway”. Even at that, George's mind was set on calling it a room. How could he argue? He was in his own mind after all.</p><p>George started walking forward. The unchanging scenery and soft, but constant light threw him off. Looking down, he could see his legs moving, but nothing around him changed. Fear really set in at this point. What is this place his mind conjured up? Was he going to be stuck here forever? George shivered. He imagined years passing in this gray room. No one to talk to, nothing to do. Just himself and the continuous descent into insanity, if you could call it a descent. “More like an unwilling walk,” George thought scornfully. </p><p>After a few more minutes of walking, George stopped and looked around. </p><p>“Oh, what the hell. Hello?” George called out, his voice echoing back to him. A few seconds passed. He inhaled to yell again when a voice responded back, yanking the air out of his lungs.</p><p>“Hey George,” Dream replied. George whipped around, scanning the area behind him.</p><p>“Dream?”</p><p>“Over here.”</p><p>George faced forward again. A distance before him, George saw the figure of a man standing in his own circle of light, hands in his pant pockets. Squinting, he could make out that the man had medium length dirty blonde hair and was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants. He couldn’t make out any true facial features from this far away, just the fact that the guy had them. George took a slight step backwards.</p><p>“Dream?” George repeated. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“You know exactly why I'm here,” Dream scoffed. George took another tentative step back.</p><p>“No, I don't. I don’t even know why I’m here, so why would I know why you’re here?”</p><p>“Oh, come on. Don’t pretend,” Dream tilted his head to the side. “Deep down you know exactly why we’re here.”</p><p>George suddenly felt incredibly exposed. The need to run away shot through his body.</p><p>“Sorry, Dream. You’re not really making much sense to me.” George rubbed his arms, goosebumps prickling over his body. Dream took his hands out of his pockets, letting them fall at his sides.</p><p>“You’re lying to yourself, George. You think it’s going to help you, but it’s not. You’re just hurting yourself.” Dream took a step towards him causing George to jump and scramble back. Laughter reverberated around the room, cold and distant.</p><p>“See,” Dream scoffed, “Even now you’re running away.” Dream took a few more steps forward. “Stop running, George. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”</p><p>“You don’t get it,” George replied, “There’s plenty to be afraid of.” George took a few shaky steps back, blood running cold.</p><p>“What don’t I get, huh?” Another step forward. “Tell me, what should I be afraid of?”</p><p>“It's nothing you would understand,” George whispered shakily, throat clenching. His vision grew blurry, eyes hot. The need to escape blared in his mind. George turned and ran back the way he came. The room grew darker. The light encircling him shrank. Darkness caved in.</p><p>“You don’t need to run, George. It’s okay. You can talk to me,” Dream’s voice drifted towards him.</p><p>“Just shut up!” George ran harder, chest burning. He watched in terror as the walls slowly drifted in. The gray concrete morphed, becoming reflective and shiny. George glanced to his right, locking eyes with himself. Full length mirrors hung along the walls. Watching himself run felt like he was viewing a horrible stop motion movie. His dark brown hair flashed at him, tousled and sticking up in strange areas. His face was a sickly shade of white. Sweat dripped down his temples, sliding down his neck. He ripped his gaze from his own. The fear trapped in his wide brown eyes made his stomach lurch. What was he so afraid of? </p><p>George ran straight into a mirror. Sharp pain shot through his left knee. Black spots danced across his vision. George pushed himself away from the glass, stumbling backwards. His back slammed against another mirror. He was surrounded, cold glass pressing against him. His hands left heat imprints along the reflective surfaces. His breath came out rapidly. He whipped his head around, hands searching from wall to wall, looking for an opening. The tips of his fingers found a crack which led into a slightly larger opening. George yanked himself towards it, shoving his body into the opening, and wiggled through the narrow alley. He reached the end and stuck his arm out into the open, hooking his forearm along the edge of the wall and used it as leverage to pull himself out. He stumbled forward, now thrust in the middle of a mirror maze. </p><p>Everywhere he looked, his reflection followed. There were thousands of him, all copying his movements. George spun around, hands out like he was trying to keep a rabid animal at bay. </p><p>“Look at what you got yourself into,” Dream’s voice said to his left. George looked over his shoulder, spotting the man leaning against a wall behind him. Completing the turn, George came face to face with himself, Dream nowhere to be found. </p><p>“What are you going to do?” Dream’s voice taunted. Anger spiked in George's stomach. He slammed his fists against his reflection, pain shooting down his forearms. The shock saved some of his sanity. He forced himself to calm down, taking long, deep breaths. He had to get out of this maze. </p><p>Looking back towards the area he stumbled out from, George only saw the smooth surface of a mirror. He looked forward again, releasing a shaky breath. Going back the way he came was not an option. He’d have to find his way through the maze.</p><p>George stuck his hands out on either side of him, pressing them against the mirrors. He slid his hands along the glass, feeling for any turns in the maze. As he was walking, he realized his reflections were changing. They were still him, just him at different points in his life. Turning down one aisle, George saw himself at the age of seven, a large grin on his young face. Flashes of his childhood played in his mind. Hot concrete under bare feet. Loud laughter from the community pool. Cold chlorine stinging his eyes. The slightly medicinal taste from his favorite popsicle. Reality hadn’t hit him yet. </p><p>Down another aisle, George saw his fourteen year old self. The bags under his eyes were growing, shoulders slouching a bit more. More flashes from his early teen years. Awkward, gangly growth spurts. Rushes of hormones. The prime discovery of video games. The beginnings of the cold curdling his blood, spending nights shivering under his blankets. George shook that version of himself away. Those were the true beginnings of his self-hatred. </p><p>George ran down another hallway, barely making the turn into a new opening and accidentally clipped his shoulder on the corner of the wall. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself before his face slammed into the concrete ground. He knelt there panting. Droplets of sweat plopped on the ground, dotting the concrete a dark gray. Slowly, George looked up. Eighteen year old him stared back, eyes heavy and dull. George launched himself away from the mirror. Claws of fear ripped at his stomach, seizing his muscles. Waves of nausea rolled over him. The harsh sting of bile jumped from his stomach, burning his chest, restricting his throat. He was bombarded with visions from his late teens. Staring out the window into the night sky. The burn of alcohol. Late nights spent killing time on his computer, avoiding sleep. Hot tears sliding over his flushed face. The constant reevaluation of everything in his life, of the emotions he felt. Denial, and the freezing, freezing cold.</p><p>George brought his knee to his chest, shut his eyes and squeezed. His hands gripped at his hair, arms covering his ears. The urge to run - to escape - was overwhelming, yet George didn’t know where to go. He was getting lost within the depths of his own mind.</p><p>“There's an easier way out of this, George. Just stop running and come with me,” Dream said. George didn’t reply. His heart hammered in his chest.</p><p>“Come on, I know you want to come with me. All you have to do is say yes.”</p><p>“I can't do that, Dream,” George replied, his voice muffled.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because-“ George slammed his mouth shut, clenching his teeth together.</p><p>“Because why, George? You know you can tell me anything, right?” </p><p>George blinked rapidly, eyelashes sticking together as tears filled his eyes. He placed a hand over his mouth and squeezed, digging his nails into his cheek.</p><p>“Please stop.” George's voice was barely above a whisper.</p><p>“Why can’t you trust me, George? Why can’t you stop running? I just want to help you.”</p><p>Quick anger rushed through his body. George snapped his head up, words ready to fly. </p><p>“Because I’m-“ George’s voice died in his throat. Crouching across from him was Dream. George could feel the heat radiating from him. He stared at his chest, not daring to look into his face. Dream stood up, walking slightly closer to George. He stuck a hand out to help him up, not saying anything. </p><p>George stared at the hand for a long moment. Slowly, he unraveled himself, lifting his arm towards Dream’s extended one. His forefinger gingerly touched Dream’s palm. A shock of warmth rushed up through George’s arm, traveling through his body. George ripped his hand away as if it burned. He reeled backwards, expecting to slam his head against the mirror behind him. Instead, he felt the cold glass slip around his shoulders, and he fell through the mirror, down into darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George gets some advice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone !! Happy holidays :) I hope everyone is staying safe and warm. This is kind of a shorter chapter, kind of a break from the action packed one before. Enjoy !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A bright light shone into George’s eyes. He sat up with a start, heart racing. He was back in his room, still on the side of his bed facing the window, legs dangling over the edge of his comforter. A crisp morning breeze swam through his room, adding a nice chill to his sweating body. George leaned over to his phone, picking it up and clicking the power button. It was 11:47. He had gotten around five hours of sleep, if you could call whatever the hell that was “sleep”. He wasn't tired, so to speak. Physically, he felt normal - sweaty, but normal. Mentally, however, that was another story entirely. His mind raced, jumping from thought to thought in a futile attempt to make sense of what that whole thing was. All of the fear he felt, the running he did, it left a strange feeling in his stomach. Dream’s words echoed in his mind.</p>
<p>
  <em> “You’re lying to yourself, George.” </em>
</p>
<p>Was he lying to himself? Immediately, George wanted to brush it off.  A laugh formed at himself for even wanting to consider the comments Dream made in a serious fashion, but it died in his throat. He shifted in his bed, feeling very uncomfortable and stiff. George didn’t like spending too much time thinking about things that upset him. He avoided it, actually, and he knew it was probably problematic, but he had better things to do than sift through his problems.</p>
<p>George ran a hand through his hair and down his neck. The back of his head was damp. Frowning, he placed his phone in his lap before reaching up and pulling his shirt away from his body. Dark rings of sweat ran down the front of his shirt. George bit the inside of his cheek and gingerly lifted an arm up. He scrunched up his nose and shook his head - new priority: take a shower.</p>
<p>George stood up, pulled his window closed, and lowered the blinds. He shivered against the last of the morning breeze, breathing deeply. It was refreshing in a way. </p>
<p>Stepping out of his bedroom, George made his way down the hall and to the bathroom, treading carefully. He was certain his parents were out running errands judging by the leftover coffee and breakfast dishes in the sink, but you never knew. He reached the bathroom, hand hovering over the knob, remembering the large mirror that took up the entirety of the left-side wall. George swallowed and pushed open the door, quickly turning on the light. He stepped in, shutting the door carefully behind himself and locked it. He stood in front of the mirror, eyes closed, heart hammering in his chest. Slowly, George opened his eyes. There he stood, looking run down, but glad to see it was his present twenty-four year old self. Average height, skinny, dark brown hair, unfortunately disheveled and greasy, tired brown eyes, pale skin with a sickly sheen to match his hair. George grimaced and turned away from the mirror. He knew he looked rough, and he usually didn’t care about his appearance. </p>
<p>The rustling of plastic squeaked as he pulled back the shower curtain, turning the knob to the shower on. Stepping back, he pulled off his sweat-stained clothes and dropped them into a pile in the corner of the bathroom. He leaned against the wall, one hand holding his phone, the other under the shower water, testing its temperature. George scrolled through his playlists on Youtube before settling on an auto-generated music mix. He set his phone on the bathroom counter, speakers facing towards the shower, and stepped under the hot water.</p>
<p>George wasn’t the kind to take long showers. His hair wasn’t hard to deal with, and he wasn’t a stickler about scrubbing. This time, however, George took a while longer. Every now and then he would inch the faucet a bit to the right, making the water just slightly hotter. George scrubbed, digging his nails into his head, and using an old washcloth for his body. White suds ran down his face, dripping lightly onto his stomach and thighs. Looking down, he saw his skin flushing, angry red blotches appearing all over his body. </p>
<p>He was hoping the hot water would force him to focus on other things - like how it stung and was probably making his skin very dry - but his mind kept wandering back to his dream. The detail he could remember the events in was terrifying, like it was something that happened to him in person rather than in the fabrics of his mind. The terror gnawing at his stomach. The fatigue from running. How hard his heart was working. How desperate his lungs were to catch a breath. And Dream. </p>
<p>
  <em> Dream... </em>
</p>
<p>George sighed and shut the water off. He wanted to talk to somebody about last night, specifically a certain Floridian, but he figured it was still very early in the morning for him. And on second thought, it would be weird to mention that the dream George had was about him. But, who else could he talk to? Sapnap, while he was a pretty emotional guy, didn’t seem like he’d be super invested in George’s problems. If he talked to him, their conversation would most definitely be embarrassingly short, leaving them both feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Plus Dream and Sapnap were best friends, so talking about a dream he had about Sapnap’s best friend would just add to the awkwardness. </p>
<p>Pushing back the shower curtain, George braced himself against the wall and reached for his towel. He quickly dried himself off and stepped out of the tub, wrapping the towel around his waist and sitting on the closed toilet lid. He studied his exposed knees, frowning as his skin turned a brighter red under the bathroom light. Maybe he should put lotion on. George rubbed his hands over his knees in an attempt to cool his legs. </p>
<p>The only other person George even considered talking to was BadBoyHalo. Bad was an incredibly nice guy. Thoughtful, supportive... and also one of Dream’s best friends. However, George trusted Bad to keep his secrets more than Sapnap. Not that Sapnap wasn’t trustworthy, George just thought Bad would have more to offer in this kind of a situation and would realize that he shouldn’t tell Dream.</p>
<p>George leaned to his right and opened the drawers under the bathroom counter, searching for some lotion. His fingers hooked around the pump to a bottle way in the back of the last drawer. Judging by the bottle’s weight, it was about half full. George sighed and stood up, taking the bottle with him. Carefully, he picked up his dirty clothes by his fingertips, balled them up and shoved them under his arm. He unlocked the bathroom door, looking both ways down the hallway. Usually, George would bring whatever clothes he planned on wearing to the bathroom with him so he wouldn’t have to make this awkward trek back to his room. In his rush to forget about his dream and to change out of his sweaty clothing, his clothes lay forgotten in their drawers. He quickly changed, slathered on lotion at a blinding speed, threw on a plain white shirt and black joggers, and tossed his dirty clothes and towel into the laundry basket beside his dresser.</p>
<p>George threw himself onto his bed and laid there for a moment. If he didn’t talk to anyone about last night, it would end up making him feel uncomfortable around Dream. He would feel weird talking to him, wondering why Dream was on his mind even in sleep, why he was taunting him. And if George felt weird on a call with Dream, God knows what would happen in person.</p>
<p>Talking to Bad couldn’t hurt. George grabbed his phone and opened Discord before realizing that Bad was also probably sleeping. He knew less of Bad’s sleep schedule than he did Dream’s, but it was only 7:15 in Florida. Although, considering Bad’s excessive addiction to caffeine, he might just be awake. George typed out a message and sent it before he could change his mind. Immediately, a response popped up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>George</strong> Today at 12:15 PM</p>
<p>hey bad, are you awake?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>BadBoyHalo</strong> Today at 12:15 PM</p>
<p>Sure am! What’s up?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George typed out a question, thumb hovering over the send button. He frowned and deleted the message, tried another version of his question, and deleted that. He stopped. Prickles of numbness shot through his hands. How could he say this without being weird? “<em> Hey there Bad! Just had a crazy dream about one of your best friends, haha. Mind talking about it with me? I think I’m gonna go insane!” </em> George pressed his lips together, softly hitting himself in the head with his palm. Bad is a nice guy, he won’t make fun of you.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>George</strong> Today at 12:17 PM</p>
<p>i was wondering if you had time to talk?</p>
<p>it’s not about anything bad or anything i just wanted to talk to someone about something</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>BadBoyHalo</strong> Today at 12:17 PM</p>
<p>Of course :) Call me when you’re ready! No pressure</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George grabbed a pair of earbuds and sat back down on his bed. He took a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm his nerves, and clicked the call button.</p>
<p>“Hey George!” Bad’s voice sounded incredibly cheerful for seven in the morning.</p>
<p>“Hey Bad. Thanks for doing this. I’m not bothering you am I?”</p>
<p>“No, silly. Don’t worry about it, you aren’t bothering me.” The warmth that emanated from Bad gave George a strange feeling of safety. It was nice, despite the small waves of nausea rolling through his body and his rioting mind. “What can I do for ya?”</p>
<p>“Uh, I- um,” George hesitated, finding himself at a loss of words. “Sorry, you’ll need to bear with me for a moment. I’m not used to really delving into my problems.”</p>
<p>“Take your time, George. There’s no rush. I’m glad you came to me.” George took a deep breath in response, a partial laugh, partial way to calm down. A moment of silence passed between them as George collected his thoughts.</p>
<p>“Please don’t make fun of me for this. And please, <em> please </em>, keep this between us.” </p>
<p>George told Bad about his dream. Memories of the endless room, the mirrors, and his childhood bombarded him at once. Beads of sweat began to break at his hairline. George told him about his mind’s rendition of dream, his taunts. He considered telling Bad about the weird warmth he felt when he touched Dream’s hand, but decided to keep that to himself. He already felt like he had shared too much.</p>
<p>“Sorry if that was weird. I just didn’t know what to make of it, and it was really bothering me.” George swallowed, throat incredibly dry. His blue water bottle lay empty on his desk.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Bad thought for a moment. “That seems like a horrible dream to have. More like a nightmare than a dream.”</p>
<p>“I suppose.”</p>
<p>“If you don’t mind, I’d like to share my thoughts.”</p>
<p>“Of course, go ahead.”</p>
<p>Bad pondered for a moment before continuing. “Well, I think Dream is right in this case. I think there’s something that has been plaguing your mind for a long time. The different versions of you, the different ages the mirrors showed you, those might be really influential times in your life. Whatever has been troubling you, it’s catching up. It might be coming to a breaking point with Dream.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure I’m following.” George was burning once again, heart rating picking up.</p>
<p>“I mean, I think there’s something you’ve avoided dealing with for quite some time. It's something that recently happens to involve Dream, but has bothered you long before now. I think your mind is trying to get you to confront this problem before things get out of hand, or trying to staunch the bleeding if things are already starting to crumble.” Bad inhaled sharply. “Oh shoot, I hope I’m not overstepping. I may have gotten too carried away with that interpretation.”</p>
<p>“No, no. You’re alright. It’s fine.” George bit down hard on his lower lip.</p>
<p>“If you don’t mind me asking, is everything okay between you and Dream?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, things are pretty normal.” </p>
<p>“That’s good to hear. I know Dream is a very emotional person, and sometimes he might say things that are hurtful, but he doesn’t mean to hurt you.” Bad sighed and gave a small chuckle. “I hope he hasn’t hurt your feelings. It would crush him if you stopped talking to him. He really cares about you, George.”</p>
<p>George adjusted his shoulders, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. He gave a short laugh and swallowed harshly.</p>
<p>“No, he hasn’t annoyed me. Yet,” George added, chuckling. “We were going to talk later today, actually. We’re planning on meeting up for the holidays.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s wonderful! Will you be coming to Florida or is Dream going to the UK?”</p>
<p>“I’d be coming to Florida.” George felt a swoop low in his stomach, sending a tingling sensation down to his toes.</p>
<p>“Even better! Dream will give you the best tour of the place.”</p>
<p>“He better.” Bad laughed at that statement.</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t give you anything less than perfect. Trust me.” Blood rushed up George’s neck, burning the tips of his ears. “and if he doesn’t, then I’ll give you a tour. Free of charge too.”</p>
<p>George laughed. A comfortable silence fell between them. Far in the background, George heard a warbled barking from a dog.</p>
<p>“I don't know if you can hear her, but Rat wants to be let outside.” Bad gave a small sigh. “I hope you’re doing alright, George. And if you need to talk about anything at any time, just let me know. I’m always available.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Bad.”</p>
<p>The two said their goodbyes and hung up. George dropped his phone next to him and wearily stared up at his ceiling. The answer to all of his problems was lurking in the back of his mind. He could feel it sneaking, hiding in the dark parts of his thoughts. The outline was visible to him; deep down George knew exactly what that outline made out to be. Yet, facing that reality was too much. </p>
<p>There was too much pain, doubt, denial. Too many “maybe this isn’t real” and “maybe it’s just a phase” and “maybe it will go away”. </p>
<p>It never went away.</p>
<p>It never will.</p>
<p>His heart clenched in his chest. A large lump formed in his throat. Hot tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over. George let them. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his head. </p>
<p>This wasn’t something he wanted to lose friends over. He couldn’t bear going through that again. Ruining his friendship with Dream, especially over some lame feeling, would quite literally kill him. Just the thought of it, of being alone again, sank a sharp fear into his stomach and ripped apart his heart.</p>
<p>George turned on his side and stared out his window, eyes dull. The cold crept up again, dampening his emotions. It brought everything to a slow buzz until, eventually, he felt nothing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George has some interesting daydreams and goes to get McDonalds.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys :) This is a bit of a longer chapter, hopefully y'all don't mind. Some sexual innuendos.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The area next to George's head vibrated softly. A weirdly funky, yet playful tune sang through his pillow. George ran his hand along his bed, pinkie finger smashing into his phone case. He yanked his phone up to his face. Dream was calling him. Before he had time to really think, George clicked accept and put the phone to his ear.</p>
<p>“Hullo?” George asked blearily.</p>
<p>“George! Where are you?” Dream yelled into the phone. George leaned his head away from the receiver.</p>
<p>“What? I’m in my room. Napping, I guess.” George blinked rapidly, looking out his window. The sun was low, tinting everything a faded orange.</p>
<p>“Dude, get on! We’ve been waiting for you for, like, an hour.”</p>
<p>“For what?”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t tell me you forgot,” Dream whined. Upon the silence from George, Dream inhaled sharply and laughed. “Sapnap! He forgot!” Dream engaged in a conversation with Sapnap, George only hearing Dream's side. From the looks of it, they were roasting the shit out of him.</p>
<p>“Forgot what, Dream? What did I forget?”</p>
<p>Dream sighed. “The new video for Sapnap’s channel. We were gonna record it today.”</p>
<p>George’s stomach dipped. He closed his eyes and used his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.</p>
<p>“Fuck, right. Yeah,” George sighed into the phone. He rubbed his temple for a moment, waiting for Dream to say something. He expected a dig at his constant napping or lack of memory, and was surprised to be met with a staticky silence. George pulled the phone away from his ear, taking a look at the screen. The call was still going.</p>
<p>“Uh- are we still recording today?” George asked timidly.</p>
<p>“Mhm,” Dream's response came out choked. “Get on quickly please.” The dial tone clicked in his ear before he could respond. George frowned, a bit of worry settling in his stomach. Did he make Dream upset? He has been late to their recording sessions before - and yes, it would throw them off schedule - but usually it wouldn’t piss any of them off too badly. And it’s not like they haven’t slept through things before, right? So what makes this any different?</p>
<p>George stood up and stretched. It was nearing 5pm and he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since last night. He took a glance at his computer, pressing his lips together. They could wait another ten minutes.</p>
<p>Bowl of cereal and a freshly filled water bottle later, George sat down at his desk and booted up his computer. On one monitor he opened up Minecraft, the other Discord. He slid his headphones on and joined the waiting call.</p>
<p>“Took you long enough,” Sapnap grumbled, “Did you fall asleep on the toilet or something?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, took a page from your book,” George replied, taking a sip of water.</p>
<p>“Wipe your ass with it too?” Sapnap quipped.</p>
<p>“Fuck off.”</p>
<p>Sapnap laughed. “Hurry up and join. And get Dream, he’s been AFK for like ten minutes.” Nerves ran through George's body. Was Dream actually upset? He has seen Dream upset before - and been on the receiving end of his rants a few times - but his response on the phone call was different. Timid, somehow. Nervous? Choked, in a way. It was strange, and unlike anything George had ever heard. No, Dream wasn’t upset. He probably got distracted by something. He’s fine. George clicked on their server before grabbing his bowl of cereal.</p>
<p>“I’ll bring him back with my Cereal ASMR.” George leaned towards his mic, holding his bowl up to his mouth. He scooped a big spoonful of cereal, slurping at the milk, then shoving the puffs into his mouth, chewing loudly.</p>
<p>“Who’s doing that? George? Knock it off,” Dream said.</p>
<p>“No,” Sapnap laughed, “Keep going. I love listening to you slurp that milk.” A series of disgusted yells were thrown at Sapnap. Shaking his head, George leaned back from his mic and set his bowl down. The world had loaded on his computer. He began moving around, attempting to locate Sapnap and unleash his disgruntled contempt onto his tiny e-boy avatar.</p>
<p>“You’re so gross, Sapnap,” Dream chided.</p>
<p>“Oh come on, Dream. I know you liked hearing that. What? Did you-“ Sapnap cut himself off with a laugh. “Did you wish that was your milk he was slurping?”</p>
<p>“Sapnap!” Dream shouted, overlapping Sapnap’s loud laughter. George couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a smirk forming on his lips.</p>
<p>“Dream, all you have to do is ask,” George flirted. Beneath Sapnap choking on his laughter, the faint sound of flustered mumbling brushed through George’s headset as Dream scrambled for a response. A warm buzz spread from his stomach, tingling his limbs. Dream was flustered. <em> Because of him. </em></p>
<p>“G-George! What the hell!” Dream wheezed, falling into his own fit of giggles.</p>
<p>“Wow, George. If I asked, would you do me a solid and drink a glass of my milk?” Sapnap asked through dying chuckles. George raised an eyebrow and gave a laugh of his own.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Sappy-Nappy, but the offer is to Dream and Dream only.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, I feel so special. Just might have to take you up on that offer when you come over.”</p>
<p>A startled laugh escaped George’s mouth. Blood rushed to his face, the warm buzzing intensifying, seeping into his lower abdomen. He bounced his leg, a nervous energy suddenly striking his body. </p>
<p>“Alright guys, chill chill. Have phone sex when I’m not in the call, yeah?” Sapnap said, pulling on a relaxed persona.</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck off, Sapnap,” Dream grumbled playfully. “It’s not like you and Karl don’t do the same thing to us whenever you’re together.”</p>
<p>“Hey, leave my man out of this argument. I don't tolerate any Karl slander in this household.”  </p>
<p>George found Dream and Sapnap in a nearby forest. He crouched next to Dream and waved his arm at Sapnap.</p>
<p>“We know, Sapnap. We know. All you ever talk about is “Karl this” and “Karl that” and “Oooh how I want to give Karl a kissy-wissy,” George pitched his voice up a few octaves, making smooching noises into his mic.</p>
<p>“That’s it. George, you’re out of here. I’ll record this video on my own.” </p>
<p>“Alright, George, be quiet. Sapnap, chill. We’re way behind schedule, so seriously let’s get recording.” </p>
<p>Sapnap and George exchanged their last bits of lewd quips before settling down. Or, at least Sapnap settled down. George’s heart stayed racing, disbelief rushing through his mind. Obviously it was a joke, but telling Dream all he had to do was ask? And Dream saying he might take him up on the offer? It was too much for him. George couldn’t stop the mental image forming in his mind. A hand caressing his cheek, cupping the back of his head, pulling him in. Warm lips on his own, soft, caring, sure. George bit the inside of his cheek hard. What was he thinking? Maybe he should go outside more, touch some grass.</p>
<p>Focusing back on the screen in front of him, George attempted to push his thoughts out of his mind. He had to perform or else, knowing Dream and Sapnap, they’d figure out that he wasn’t paying attention, and he did <em> not </em>want to tell them what he was thinking about. His leg bounced with newfound anxiety. He just had to get through this recording and he’ll dip. Maybe take a walk around the neighborhood or get some fast food. anything to take his mind off...</p>
<p>“Dream, run the code and let’s get moving,” Sapnap said after clearing his throat. He was the one that brought up the idea for the video they were recording: Minecraft, but we can only use a wooden pickaxe. Can we defeat the game using only a wooden pickaxe or will our lack of using other tools make Minecraft impossible to defeat? Keep watching to find out. Also, only a small percentage of people are actually subscribed...</p>
<p>They made it to the End in about two and a half hours. Screams of frustration and anger rang through the call as one of them would die attempting to fend off an Enderman or kill the dragon. It was just as frustrating as George expected it to be. His agitation grew with each passing death, and listening to Dream grunt and groan was not helping the situation. But, at last, George watched as Dream ran up to the Ender Dragon and hit it. She rose in her bursting finale, exploding in the air, raining tons of experience onto the ground. George didn’t wait. He ran towards the exit portal and launched himself into the starry black pool. Sapnap and Dream followed shortly after, signifying the end of the recording session. </p>
<p>Sapnap could pull some highlights from their recordings and make a decent video, George was sure. He tried his best to be normal, to be GeorgeNotFound, but the underlying anxiety roiled his persona. He prayed it wasn’t noticeable.</p>
<p>The second the overworld loaded on George’s screen, he logged off. </p>
<p>“George, where are you going?” Dream asked, concern heavy in his voice. </p>
<p>“Uh oh, does Georgie have to take anotha’ poo?” Sapnap asked in a horrible British accent. Normally the three of them would stay on call after recording and talk about how the session went - what was good, what wasn’t - overall just to decompress. This time, however, George knew he had to get off. They would pick up on his discomfort immediately if they hadn’t already, and talking about his feelings for a second time that day did not sound appealing in the slightest. </p>
<p>“I'm really hungry,” George replied stiffly. He grimaced. They definitely knew something was up.</p>
<p>“Oh, well what are you going to get? I’ll order it for you if you want, so you don’t have to leave,” Dream offered.</p>
<p>“Uh... I just planned on going to McDonald’s honestly.”</p>
<p>“Of course, you’re a man of habit. What do you want?”</p>
<p>“I mean, like, I planned on actually going out,” George mumbled. “Look, it’s okay, Dream. You don’t have to buy me food.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be an idiot. I offered. It’s fine. What do you want?”</p>
<p>George pressed his lips together, breathing deeply. “Dream, seriously. It’s okay. I think getting out would be good for me. It’s been a strange day.”</p>
<p>Dream sighed, the faint clattering of a phone being placed on a desk reverberated through the call. “Alright then. Don’t take the free food, weirdo,” Dream joked. George smiled, feeling a flush in his cheeks. The offer was nice. It left a warmth in his stomach.</p>
<p>“I'll take it, Dream,” Sapnap chimed in. </p>
<p>“Sure. What do you want? Subway?”</p>
<p>“I’ll talk to you guys later,” George said, leaving Dream and Sapnap to work out their food plans. He stood up and leaned against his desk. The rumbling in his stomach indicated that he wasn’t lying about being hungry. And going out seemed like a genuinely good idea. The cold air might shock him out of his weird stupor. </p>
<p>George pulled open his closet, sliding a pair of black sneakers out. His wallet and house keys laid in the top drawer of his night stand, which he pocketed alongside his phone. He opened the door to his room.</p>
<p>“I’m going out to eat,” George called to his parents, “Do you guys want anything?” Neither did; his mom wasn’t a fan of fast food and his father wasn’t hungry. George left the house and began walking down the street. </p>
<p>The sun had set a while ago, leaving the city pitch black, save for the dim lamp posts that dotted the street every so often. Dark gray clouds loomed in the distance, partially obscuring the stars. As England progressed deeper into winter, the days grew rainier, windier. Colder. George ran his hands over his arms, regretting his decision not to bring a jacket. The sharp air raised goosebumps along his exposed arms; a quick pain, bothersome, but not enough to take away from the other things floating around in his mind. He tried not to, he really did, but his thoughts wandered back to Dream. They had yet to finalize their plans of meeting up, and the longer they went without talking, the more questions built up.</p>
<p>
  <em> How would I get there? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Who would pick me up? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Where would I stay? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Would I stay with you? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Would you want me to stay with you? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Are you certain it’s okay if I visit you? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Are you sure you’re fine with me knowing what you look like? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> You won’t end up hating me after this, will you? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Please don’t hate me. </em>
</p>
<p>Cold seeped through his clothing, pinching at his stomach. Half way down the block George realized he wasn’t hungry anymore. He stopped walking and looked up. Tree branches swayed on the outskirts of his vision, tickled by the breeze. The breeze itself was chilly; any other day it would be considered nice. Today, however, it bit, pinched, reddened the skin, sunk into the body and settled into the bones. George looked back the way he came, debating whether or not to just go back home. He sighed, and rolled his head, continuing his walk down the street. He might not be hungry now, but Future George would be glad for the food.</p>
<p>Hands still in his pockets, George felt a buzz on his thigh. He pulled out his phone and saw a Discord notification from Sapnap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Sapnap </b>Today at 8:45 PM</p>
<p>hey man</p>
<p>you alright? you seemed kinda off today</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George closed his eyes and grimaced. Just as he predicted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>George </b>Today at 8:45 PM</p>
<p>yeah, i’m alright. just tired probably. sorry if it ruined the recording.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Sapnap </b>Today at 8:46 PM</p>
<p>dw about it man im sure its fine</p>
<p>dream told me you and him were planning on meeting up for the holidays, how’s that coming along?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Massive amounts of guilt flooded through his body. Memories of the three of them talking late at night, spending hours making plans to meet up and hang out filled his mind. Now he had the chance to meet Dream, but Sapnap wouldn’t be there. It felt like a betrayal. Yet, a part of him felt a little giddy. He'd get Dream to himself, outside of just voice chats, phone calls, and texting, but in real life. Still, it was unfair to Sapnap. </p>
<p>George stopped at the upcoming crosswalk and pressed the button on the post. The yellow McDonald’s sign shone in the dark, coloring the sidewalk a sickly fluorescent yellow. George sighed and looked back at his phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>George </b>Today at 8:48 PM</p>
<p>it’s coming along. we still have to finalize the plans but i think i’ll be in florida until the new year.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That idea still floored him. Two whole weeks in Florida with Dream? What could they possibly do for that long?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Sapnap </b>Today at 8:48 PM</p>
<p>sounds awesome dude. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>George </b>Today at 8:49 PM</p>
<p>dream said you couldn’t come?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Sapnap </b>Today at 8:50 PM</p>
<p>yeah sorry about that, i had already made plans with karl. i’m going to his house for the holidays but maybe after christmas we can all meet up or something?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George looked up. The crosswalk was counting down from ten, flashing at him to cross the street. He entered the McDonalds and stood in line, order known by heart.</p>
<p>
  <em> You’re a man of habit. </em>
</p>
<p>He looked back down at his phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>George </b>Today at 8:51 PM</p>
<p>idk i feel weird meeting up without you though. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Sapnap </b>Today at 8:52 PM</p>
<p>dw about that, i was the one that told dream to invite you out anyway. plus it’s not like we can’t hang out after christmas right? you’re gonna stay until after new years</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>George </b>Today at 8:52 PM</p>
<p>true. that’s if i can stand living with dream for two weeks :/</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Sapnap </b>Today at 8:53 PM</p>
<p>bro you’d have to keep dream from holding you hostage. mans is so madly in love with you he won’t let you go back home</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The growingly familiar swoop swung through his stomach. That was a joke. Obviously. Just a joke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>George </b>Today at 8:54 PM</p>
<p>what can i say? i’m just irresistible</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Sapnap </b>Today at 8:54 PM</p>
<p>ily gogy &lt;3333</p>
<p>florida is gonna be fun dude don’t stress about it. i know you’re probably worried but i can assure you dream is freaking out even more. he want everything to be perfect for you. he’ll do the most to make sure that you’re happy. but honestly George, you have nothing to worry about. everything will work out fine</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>George </b>Today at 8:55 PM</p>
<p>thanks sapnap i dunno what to say</p>
<p>thank you</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George sighed and shut off his phone. He bought his food and moved to the side to wait for order. The fact that Dream still had not messaged him about their plans worried him. What if Dream regretted asking last night? He had already seemed anxious about asking, maybe he changed his mind. Maybe that’s a good thing. And honestly, what could they do for two weeks? Play Minecraft? It’s not like George could bring his PC with him. The vision from earlier struck him again. He felt his face reddening at the thought. Arms wrapping around him from behind, pulling him close. A warm chest pressed against his back. A vibrant smile. Comfort. Desire. Need.</p>
<p>“Order number 12!”</p>
<p>George snapped out of his head up. Once again, he was bogged down by his unfortunate thought process. He walked up and grabbed the brown bag off the counter, thanking the worker, and quickly made his way out of the restaurant.</p>
<p>The cold air washed over his face, pulling him further out of his hormonal stupor. Seriously, what the fuck was going on with him? First the insane dream, and now this? What could he even call this? It was like his horny teenage years all over again, but worse. Way, way worse. It’s not like he was a virgin; he’s had his fair share of experience. He was twenty four, an adult. He had gone through college, experimented with a few things, a few people. So what's his problem? Why was he daydreaming about his best friend like he would a childhood crush?</p>
<p>George’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing a text message.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Dream</b>
</p>
<p>hey!! u home yet?</p>
<p>
  <b>Dream</b>
</p>
<p>probs not, u walk slow. just txt me when u get back home so we can talk :) let’s get you out here as soon as possible yeah?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George shifted his food bag under his arm so he could text with both hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>George</b>
</p>
<p>sounds good :] i’m on my way home rn</p>
<p>
  <b>George</b>
</p>
<p>and i don’t walk slow, asshole. rude much?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George slipped his phone back into his pocket and crossed the street, walking slightly faster than he was before.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George and Dream finalize their plans for the holidays, and George's day is wrapped up with an unexpectedly colorful night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys !! Sorry this one is a little late. I do have to say that I'll be taking a slight break from updating. I am definitely going to finish this story, I just have a lot of work to catch up on in other areas. If you want, you can follow my twitter (@dropdotss) for updates there. Otherwise enjoy !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was pitch black by the time George got back to his house. His parents usually turned in early, so he wasn’t surprised that the lights were off when he walked in. Careful not to make too much noise, George tiptoed back to his room, softly opening and shutting his bedroom door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Placing his McDonald's bag on his desk, George kicked off his shoes and laid on his bed. He slid his phone out of his pocket and opened his text string with Dream. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach, lighting his nerves on fire with each beat of their wings. His heart rate picked up slightly. What was </span>
  <em>
    <span>happening</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>George</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>hey i’m home now</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>George </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>do you want me to call you? or just text?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was something intimate about phone calls that made it different than texting or one-on-one discord calls. It made him feel like Dream was in the room with him. He could close his eyes and imagine Dream laying next to him, talking, laughing, lighting up the room with his vibrancy. His warmth would radiate through the phone, dispelling any cold George felt at that time. He cherished those moments he had with Dream. A rush of giddiness ran through his body as the realization he could actually experience Dream’s warmth in person settled in his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzed in his hand. The funky ringtone he set as a joke for Dream now gave him a rush of energy and comfort. George’s thumb hovered over the accept button while he calmed his fluttering nerves. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deep breath</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He relaxed his thumb and pulled the phone up to his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Took you long enough! I thought you’d never get home.” Dream’s voice rang though George’s ear, excitement and something else - nerves, was it? - coated Dream’s words. George felt himself matching Dream’s emotions, drawn in by his brilliance, his animation. This always happened to him, Dream would run off on some tangent, words heavy with feeling as he ranted about whatever topic was on his mind, and George would listen, captivated, content with simply sitting there and letting Dream ramble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t know it was Shit-On-George-Day. Please continue, I don’t mean to interrupt,” George smirked, pushing himself up to lean against his bed frame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream released a breathy laugh, unleashing another cage of butterflies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come on now. You’re too pretty to actually be shit on and you know it,” Dream replied. A flash of heat ran up George’s neck and into his face.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever. Doesn’t stop you from fucking with me anyway,” George murmured. He could hear the shit-eating grin forming on Dream's face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s only because I think it’s cute seeing you all flustered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George’s heart thumped in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, clenching the tufts at the nape of his neck. These were jokes. Just jokes. He had to get control over himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” George laughed, shifting in his seat. “Don’t we have, like, a trip to plan or are you just going to keep bothering me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just until you agree that you’re cute,” Dream purred. The low buzz settled in George’s stomach, sinking deeper. He swallowed harshly and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. George cursed silently, hating the hold that Dream had over him. What was he feeling? Seriously? This isn’t how people should feel about their best friends, right? That much George knew. This was something entirely different, something strange, yet so unfortunately familiar. He could see it now, dragging itself from the depths of his mind, clawing, scraping, wrecking havoc as it writhed. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He knew the repercussions of these emotions all too well, and this cannot be what destroys his friendship with Dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This can’t happen again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Dream,” George pleaded, “Don’t do this to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do what? There’s no one watching. Come on, admit it. You know you’re adorable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George felt himself growing more and more flushed. A hot flash of annoyance ran through his body knowing Dream was happily boosting his ego over George’s awkwardness. It seemed unfair. Dream could flirt to his heart's content, pull anyone he could ever want. What could George do? Stutter? Laugh nervously? Clumsily dodge compliments because returning them was something impossible to do? Looks were one thing, and he understood he wasn’t ugly, but drop him in a crowd full of random people and he would drown, sink to the bottom of the sea and watch as Dream swam to the top. Dream had the confidence George prayed he could even have a sliver of - and look where praying got him. George pressed his lips together, frowning at the wall across from him. Why would Dream even waste his breath “flirting” with him? There were thousands of other people who would give anything to talk to Dream. George was nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a terrible flirt, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it worked on you, didn’t it?” Dream asked innocently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wish. Now come on. Seriously. I want to get this trip figured out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’ll save the sleazy pick up lines for when you actually get here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or you can just ditch them. They really wouldn’t be missed.” George swung his legs over his bed and stood up, moving towards his desk. “I can tell you’re about to argue with me, so instead let’s look at possible flights I can book, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George booted up his computer, placing Dream on speaker. They talked through days George could arrive - Dream insisting he could accommodate for whatever day George chose, George insisting that Dream shouldn’t just drop his plans for him. They bickered back and forth for a while, and a thought swept through George’s mind, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We sound like an old married couple.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying I don’t have anything planned at all this month!” Dream reiterated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? Nothing at all? So I could just plop down in Florida today and you’d be totally fine with it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! Literally you could teleport your ass into my bedroom and I would be completely, one hundred percent, totally okay with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, now it just sounds like you’re being sarcastic.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George laughed at Dream's frustrated groan, although the idea of George being in Dream’s room lingered slightly longer than it should. He bit down on his bottom lip hard.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Enough with these fucking daydreams,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Snap out of it, weirdo.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>December 20th. One ticket on a non-stop flight to Orlando, Florida stared at George through his screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll pay for it,” Dream said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No, I got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, George. Let me pay for your ticket.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George laughed, feeling the familiar buzz settle in his stomach. “Seriously, Dream. I'm paying for my own ticket. You’re literally housing me for two weeks. The money I would have spent on the hotel is going to the ticket.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is your early Christmas gift from me to you. Please let me do this.” George went silent for a moment, overwhelmed and stunned by the emotion in Dream’s voice and the growing warmth flooding his body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t read into things, don’t read into things. He’s being nice, George. It’s simply what friends do.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a nice gesture, Dream, really, but-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh, right. Well while you were contemplating letting me buy the ticket, I bought the ticket.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha- Dream!” A wheezing laugh burst through the phone. George placed his head in his hands, groaning. He let his hands fall to the desk, head dropping to his chest before rolling to the side. He couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. “You’re such an idiot,” George said into the phone, unable to keep the warmth from his voice. Dream’s laugh filtered through the speaker, bringing splashes of color into George’s dark room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, I’m such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>genius </span>
  </em>
  <span>- catching you off guard like that,” Dream said through the last of his wheezing laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s your money that you’re wasting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wasting</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Dream repeated, opposition heavy in his voice. “Spending money on you is never a waste. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” George inhaled sharply, the buzzing now flowing through his body full force.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“R-right,” George stammered, clearing his throat. “Well, I feel indebted to you now, and I hate feeling like I owe you something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you definitely owe me something. I paid for your flight, you’re staying in my house for two weeks. Gosh, and all you have to do is sit there and look pretty.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dream,” George groaned into the phone. “Come on, it’s your fault! Why do you always do this to me.” An abrupt laugh came from Dream, startling George. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t do anything to you. You do everything to me,” Dream murmured into the phone, voice unexpectedly low. George’s vision went fuzzy as blood rushed to his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What did that mean?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George let out a nervous laugh. “What? Dream, I didn’t want you to pay for my flight, weirdo. I’ll just, like, venmo you the money or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no. Don’t send me any money,” Dream sighed, voice back to normal. “If you really want to repay me we can figure something out when you get here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A multitude of different ideas played through George’s mind, half of which were most definitely not PG. George shook his head and sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I swear on my life if this is seriously happening </span>
  </em>
  <span>again</span>
  <em>
    <span>, I’m going to fucking move to Bulgaria and disappear into the void,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself. He focused back on his computer screen, suddenly feeling cramped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, sounds good to me,” he sighed. “I think I’m gonna head off to bed. I’m strangely tired today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. That walk you took must’ve been the most exercise you’ve done in years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, shut the fuck up,” George laughed, blushing at the truth behind that statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, sleepy head. Get some rest. I’ll see you in three days,” Dream said, the large smile evident in his words. Dream hung up before George could ask him how he was going to be picked up from the airport. The one thing George was phenomenally worried about and he forgot to ask about it. He reclined in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. His blinks grew sluggish. If he was really worried about it, he could just call Dream tomorrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Digging his feet into the carpet, George spun his chair to face his bed. He stood up carefully, sliding his joggers off and kicking them into a corner before settling into bed. The bland ceiling swayed, George’s vision swimming with fatigue. He blinked once. Twice. His eyelids darkened his vision a third time, before sliding up to reveal the gray room.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George found himself standing in the middle of the room, the expansive walls careening off into the distance. Fear struck him again as he spun in a circle. He was alone, thankfully or not. No mirrors, no reflective surfaces to show him former versions of himself. He glanced down, finding a pair of light gray sweatpants covering his legs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess my mind does me favors every once in a while,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. The circle of light was back around his feet, and with nothing else to do, George began to move forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was funny. George never considered the idea that he could turn around and walk backwards. Although this was only his second time in this dreamscape, he figured that going backwards only brought bad things. He ran back last time simply out of pure terror, and that was when the mirror maze constructed itself. His trek forward didn’t seem to do much. Dream appeared in front of him last time, but he had a feeling that wasn’t because of his walk forward. It was something else, something from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sides</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So, walking forward hasn’t done anything bad to him, but what if it brought something worse?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George slowed his pace, coming to a complete stop. He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing. Solid gray walls extended into a black abyss, darkness curling around his vision. The scene was identical to the one he was walking into. His creeping anxiety revved into panic. Why hasn’t anything appeared yet? Why hasn’t anything changed? What was stopping something terrifying manifesting into existence? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George shoved his hands into his pockets and faced forward. He contemplated taking a step back, but instinct told him not to. Spending eight hours walking in a straight line seemed like a better choice than slamming his face into mirrors and sweating panic and fear. He continued on, opting to watch his feet since staring into the abyss made him uneasy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The progression was slow, but eventually George realized that the room was changing. The walls were closing in again, dipping towards him, and lightening in color. The ceiling slanted down into vision, the growth of a light fixture visible every ten feet, like a step-by-step process of a growing plant. George frowned, shoving his palms up to his eyes, rubbing hard. Watching the room change made him feel funny, nauseous, like getting off a rollercoaster after eating a big lunch. Still walking forward, he blinked his eyes open, vision blurry and stinging slightly. His foot collided with the edge of a wooden bed frame causing him to stumble forward, barely catching himself on the mattress. His right hand sank into a dark gray comforter, his left gripped tightly around the end pole of the bed frame. George pushed himself up and took a look around the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walls were painted an off-white, bare and clean. A window was to his right, heavy curtains drawn over it. To his left was a large desk which spanned most of the wall. Two monitors were positioned next to each other, a light-up keyboard in front of them alternating between lime green and white. Directly ahead was a large wooden dresser, painted black to match the bed frame. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, stirring the stale air. There was no sign of life in the room besides George, or so he thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt the presence before it touched him. George bristled quickly, unable to turn around as strong arms snuck beneath his own, wrapping tightly around his stomach. A warm chest pressed into his back, the faint smell of cedar wood and lavender laundry detergent tickled his nose. He felt a light pressure on his shoulder followed by a deep, relaxed sigh. George could sense his own muscles wanting to relax into the person behind him. It had been a long time since he had been held like this, and the soft pang in his stomach reminded him just how much he craved it. Slowly, George turned his head to the left, catching the top a head layered with dirty blond hair. His heart began to speed up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I've been dreaming of hugging you like this for years,” Dream said softly, voice muffled. George could feel Dream’s lips moving against his shoulder, his shirt a dangerously thin barrier covering his skin. Surprise and shock rendered him speechless. The drop in his stomach seemed to be endless, the warm buzzing back in full force. George shifted his gaze to the wall in front of him as he desperately attempted to convince himself that this wasn’t real. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Then why did it feel so real?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want, Dream?” George asked, body stiff and unmoving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream gave a low chuckle. He stood up to his full height, leaning a good six inches over George. Using his left arm, he slid George’s arm out, interlacing their hands together. George watched, eyes wide, as Dream’s hands cupped his own, his wide, strong wrist backing George’s slender ones. Dream stepped out to the left, moving until the two were lined up together, George still facing the dresser, Dream with his back to it, left arms extended out, intertwined. Slowly, George slid his gaze up to Dream’s face. A white ceramic mask covered his eyes and nose, leaving only his lips exposed. Two leather straps wove through Dream’s hair, tying in a neat knot at the back of his head. Dream smiled, a large, shining grin that lit up the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want a lot of things,” he said, “And I’m sure you do as well. But there’s a certain thing I want, a certain thing I desperately want, a thing you might want just as badly. We can help each other out here, George. But you’re going to have to make a decision.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room melted, fading into darkness until it was just the two of them in their own circles of light. George couldn’t tell if he was standing or floating. He clung to Dream’s hand, gripping it with a newfound force. He had the idea that if he let go, he wouldn’t be able to get back to him. The light would fade, Dream would disappear, he would lose him, and then lose himself. He couldn’t let go. This was the one thing he cared about, the one thing he put all of his time and effort into. It meant too much to him to lose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s it going to be, George?” Tears welled in George’s eyes, threatening to spill over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know goddamn well what my fucking choice is going to be,” George said through clenched teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So say it,” Dream replied, demeanor calm and serene, and entirely infuriating to George.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You. I choose you. I want you. It’s always going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The tears fell, sliding down George’s cheeks and dripping into nothingness. “But I’m scared. I am so, so terrified of losing you, I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something as badly as I want you, and I don’t want to fuck anything up.” George began to laugh. The void around them changed, moving from a deep black to a dark shade of blue. George looked around him, finding that the void moved, rolling the blue in waves. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George looked down at his feet. “Please, Dream. It can’t be me making the first move.” He moved his gaze to the ceramic mask, the perfectly circular divots burning into his eyes. “I’ll ruin it, Dream. Please. You have to understand why.” The tears fell faster now, memories from before rushing back all too quickly. It wasn’t worth it. George may choose Dream, but he can’t be sure Dream would choose him, and that isn’t enough to risk what they have. George slackened his grip on Dream’s hand, slowly drifting backwards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, he felt a yank. George was pulled to the left, colliding with Dream. An arm snaked around his waist, holding him tight, the other reached up and caressed his cheek, wiping the tears away. George looked into Dream’s face, wishing he would say something, willing him to, but nothing came. Only a smile, soft, yet still radiant in every way. Dream closed the distance between them, lips colliding. George’s eyes slid shut, vision bursting with color - colors of every kind, every shade, colors he was sure didn’t exist. He was falling apart, melting, dripping, incredibly and impossibly warm. He couldn’t take it, but wanted more all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George opened his eyes, working fiercely to gain control of his senses. He forced his arms to move, placing his hands on Dream’s chest, pulling them apart. Dream dipped forward, attempting to close the gap again, but George leaned back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does this mean?” George asked, voice barely above a whisper. He searched Dream’s face, eyes lingering on his mouth, before dropping his gaze. Dream placed a hand under George’s chin, lifting it back up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know exactly what this means,” Dream said, and kissed him again. The void morphed a final time, shifting to a vibrant yellow. The waves picked up, different hues of yellow and orange swirled around them. George closed his eyes and melted.</span>
</p>
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